Can You Hear Me?
by RegulusBlackIsAHero
Summary: Regulus Black is a death eater. Sure, killing isn't his favorite, but it's all just part of the job. Then, Chayele Stricken - a known member of the Order of the Phoenix- is captured. He feels an over-whelming urge to help her. Will he? Or will he ignore the feelings and avoid her, pretending to not hear the screams. For Forever Siriusly Sirius's challenge.
1. Chapter 1

She was screaming.

It wasn't poetic, like a damsel in distress.

One would think a woman's scream is beautiful in a cold way. Cruel, yes. Tragic, yes. The way it echoes off the ground, sparks in the air, reverberates off the wall... Beautiful. And horrific. So many long to hear it, search for it with the steady dripping of fresh blood...

His cousin was one of them. And it sickened him. Killed him inside as he killed on the outside.

He could do nothing.

Never.

And he wanted to save her.

She wanted nothing more than to kill him.

Not just him, nothing that dramatic.

She wanted to escape.

He wanted to help her.

And he hated himself for it.

She was friends with his brother.

A member of the Order of the Phoenix.

He was a death eater. A slave.

And he regretted it.

The first time he saw her was at school.

Born enemies, they never spoke.

The first time he heard her was when she screamed.

He was the torturer.

"Crucio," he said blandly. He felt the energy run through his body and shuddered. In only seconds, it hit the woman before him.

She tensed and writhed, her body doing a grotesque dance on the floor of the cellar. Her teeth were pressing into her lip, drawing blood as her hands scratched at her skin. They drew blood, leaving long streaks across her bruised skin.

When they brought her, her skin had been dirty, but he saw the pale color of it.

Now it was so dark and bloody...

Her hair had been tussled but blonde and long. Now, while it still cascaded over her face, it was limp and dirty.

She was tragic. She was terrible.

Chayele Stricken was stunning.

"Crucio," he said again. This time she screamed. Loudly. It assaulted his eardrums, making him wish to cover his ears.

That was the last thing he could do with all of the other death eaters in there with him.

Stricken writhed on the ground, her body smacking against the wall of the cell. Her head cracked off of it sickeningly. Regulus winced, even though he tried to hide it. Luckily, the other death eaters hadn't noticed. They were too dumb to notice anything. He could see Wilkes standing beside him, eyes gleaming with glee as the girl – Stricken – thrashed.

Once again, he raised his wand, almost mechanically, detached from his conflicting emotions.

"Crucio," he said. The power once again flew through him, but it was weaker, more pathetic than before. The spell sizzled out weakly, and Stricken hardly flinched when it struck her.

"Come on, Black," Rabastan Lestrange hooted. "You can do better than that!" Wilkes scoffed.

"Black? I'm surprised he's got this far. He's weak as his brother. C'mon, let me have a turn with the girl. I'll give her a night she'll never forget!" Wilkes said, smiling maliciously. Rabastan let out a loud laugh. Regulus opened his mouth to protest; Wilkes was terrible. He'd make it so much worse for her.

Before he could, as the most senior death eater present, Rodulphous Lestrange made a decision.

"Let's give Wilkes a shot. Black's too weak; can you see him shaking? Don't kill the whore, Wilkes. There'll be hell to pay if you do."

He was right. Regulus could feel himself shaking, but he wasn't tired. He was furious, and adrenaline pumped through him.

The other death eaters exited the room, most muttering unhappily. They had liked watching the torture.

He wanted nothing more than to help this girl.

But he hardly knew her.

There was no point. This was no tale to tell young children about a hero and a villain. If he helped her, then he – and Stricken, too, after they destroyed what was still left of her mind – would be killed.

It would be slow and painful.

A more dramatic person would say that nothing could be worse than what they had now. And he supposed it was true to an extent.

He was a death eater. Cold, cruel. It wasn't the life for him. Merlin, he knew that now. He hadn't before.

But he'd be lying if he said that his life was horrible. He was fighting for what he believed in. Muggles were nothing; they were worthless. This bitch – Stricken – was a muggle-lover. She wanted to help them, and, for all of that shit, she deserved what she was getting.

Sure, he was killing, and he didn't like that. However, they were in a war. A war. There was no way to fight without casualties, as his brother had found out.

He could remember when Stricken was captured (Merlin was that really only yesterday?) She had been knocked unconscious in a fight on Diagon Alley. As a known member of the Order of the Phoenix, she had been grabbed quickly by Wilkes. Sirius had seen her being apparated away.

Regulus could still remember the horror struck look on his face when he saw. It served him right; that's what he gets for fighting for the wrong side.

That's what he deserved for leaving Regulus.

A loud scream interrupted Regulus's thoughts. He whipped around to stare at the heavy, wooden door. The sound had to be loud to be coming through there.

Suddenly, he wondered. Was Stricken crying in pain and helplessness yet? All of them did with Wilkes. If there was a gram of defiance still in her, then it would be squashed into nothing. Wilkes could make them cry out so easily.

It was disgusting, and it only refueled his desire to help her.

He couldn't though.

Why would he help her? It would cost him his own life. He had to just ignore her.

That's what he'd do. He'd just avoid her in any way possible. It wouldn't be long, especially if Wilkes kept up his daily visits. Soon, she'd be broken and dead.

And then, Regulus thought with relish, all of these traitorous thoughts will be dead alongside of her.

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**Hi, everyone. I know I shouldn't be starting something new, but I joined a challenge to get me more interested in my fics again. It won't distract me from my other fics, I promise!  
**

**Please read and review. This is my first ever attempt at romance (or a story that will possibly have a happy ending.)  
**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Regulus walked away from Stricken's room with a sense of contempt. Yet, try as he may, he couldn't seem to shift the disdain onto Stricken. It remained – to his dread – fully focused on himself for not rescuing her.

He bit his lip, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Regulus was trying to wake himself up because surely, this was a childish fantasy. Merlin, he thought that being eighteen would be the end to hormones and idiotic decisions. Unfortunately, his life seemed to revolve around such decisions.

After all, he was killing so many… No. He – he had to. It's what he believed in. Regulus Arcturus Black believed in what the death eaters were doing! He – he enjoyed it. Right?

Regulus had not the heart to lie to himself once again but the truth! Ai, the truth was too horrible to bear in his mind. He could not – could never – recognize just how terrible his decisions really were. After all, then what would he do? Something stupid, no doubt.

Something like Sirius would do. His brother – no, not his brother, was a Gryffindor, and Regulus knew what Sirius would have done. After – of course – smacking him multiple times for getting into this situation – he would rescue Stricken and be gone. The death eaters wouldn't find him again.

"Black!" Regulus spun around to the call behind him. It was Malfoy. He was standing there – as always – with a sneer on his face, and his hair hung down, combed perfectly, onto his back.

"What, Malfoy?" Regulus's cousin may be married to him, but he would never like Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps it was because Malfoy had always been so cruel at attacks, but no, it couldn't be because this was what Regulus believed in.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you," Malfoy said, stepping closer. Regulus could see his lip curling with the disgust of being a message boy. As always, he tried to provoke Malfoy because of it. Malfoy's superior act was disgusting, and Regulus had heard him complain – away from the Dark Lord's ear – that "Malfoy's deserved better."

"Of course," Regulus said, already tightening his – admittedly weak – occulmency shields. They weren't amazing, but they would do as long as the Dark Lord didn't try to force his way in. Regulus doubted he'd try that. Usually, it drove the victim insane.

Regulus really hoped he wouldn't try that.

"Thank you for bringing me the message, Malfoy." The words were said in a snarl, and Regulus knew that Malfoy understood that the thanks were not said in gratitude. Malfoy glared once again and then he stormed off, down the halls.

Regulus took a deep breath. He needed to calm himself. There could be no emotion in front of the Dark Lord. Except for Bella, she showed emotion all of the time. Yet, she was bloody in love with the Dark Lord, so, she was a different story.

Schooling his features into a mask, Regulus walked towards the study. He walked towards the Dark Lord.

The person he believed in.

Why was that voice so weak?

He went to knock on the door, only to freeze as he heard voices. It was the Dark Lord and… and another death eater. Regulus could not place the name.

"I am immortal now, my servant."

"Yes, my lord," the voice said. "Have you hidden the Horcruxes, yet?"

"Of course, Mullog."

"Wonderful, my lord," the other – Mullog – exclaimed. Regulus could tell that he was amazed at the prospect of the Dark Lord being immortal. So was Regulus, right? The sick feeling inside of him was only the shock.

"You have been my most faithful servant, Mullog," the Dark Lord continued. Regulus could hear the slight excitement he had learned to recognize. The Dark Lord was going to kill him, and as always, he was excited to kill someone.

"Of course, my lord." Regulus could hear Mullog becoming nervous. Did he recognize the Dark Lord's anticipation, too?

"But you know too much. I will regret this; I am sure. Avada Kedavra." There was a flash of green light that reflected from under the door. Then a thump. The Dark Lord let out a hiss that Regulus knew to be parseltongue.

Finally, knowing it was time to announce his presence, Regulus knocked on the heavy door.

"Who is it?"

"Regulus Black, my lord," he said emotionlessly.

"Ah, Black. Enter." Regulus took one last deep breath and pulled open the door. Inside, the Dark Lord was sitting on a chair meant to be a throne. It was, of course, one of Malfoy's, and Regulus felt a surge on content go through him at the thought of Malfoy seeing someone else on an expensive chair custom made for Malfoy himself. Then he quelled the emotions.

"You called, my lord?"

The Dark Lord himself was a strong presence. He was very awe-inspiring and very terrifying. Regulus, though, felt more fear than awe. The Dark Lord was immortal.

But…

It didn't matter that the Dark Lord was making himself immortal. In fact, he wanted the Dark Lord to be immortal because then nothing could ever stop him from putting Mudbloods in their place.

Why did that sound so terrible? If the Dark Lord was to last forever – would there be any people left at the end of it? Would he even have a realm to rule?

"Ah, yes, Black. Your cousin has informed me that you own a house elf, correct?" Regulus began to nod before catching himself. The Dark Lord could take only a nod as offensive – if he felt the need to torture someone.

"Yes, my Lord."

"I have a… job for him. You will order the elf to come with me tomorrow."

"Yes, my Lord," Regulus repeated. He was slightly fearful. After all, the Dark Lord had proved time and time again – as did most purebloods – that he had no respect of other races nor the magic they held.

Kreacher had a lot of magic. Regulus had learned over and over again that it was to be respected. That was a lesson his brother – no, Sirius. They were no longer brothers - had never learned.

"Oh, and Black, I heard you weren't strong enough to perform the cruciatus curse." Regulus tensed, waiting to feel the painful – no, worse than painful – bite of the cruciatus curse on himself. It didn't come. When he dared to raise his eyes, he found the Dark Lord staring at him.

"Yes, my Lord," Regulus affirmed in a soft voice, realizing that the Dark Lord was awaiting an answer.

"Be stronger next time, Black. Crucio."

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**Hey guys! I know it's been a long time. This fic isn't the one I'm focusing on at the moment. **

**Please review. This is my first attempt at a romance fic. I need to know how it's going!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**


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